Something Old - Dianne L. Christner [109]
“Chamomile.”
Barbara eyed Katy’s covering. “Figured you for that sort.”
The older woman lifted a grimy teapot from a white cookstove cluttered with pots and crusty spatulas, allowing time for Katy to assess the room. Besides the dirty dishes, filthy hairballs covered the floor, and her chair felt sticky. Something touched her leg, and she jumped. Then she heard a purr and looked down at a Siamese cat that wove in and out between her chair and her legs. She gasped when a large white Persian jumped from the floor onto the counter.
“Stay away, Goblin. Stove’s hot.” Barbara scooped up the cat in her arms, patting its fluffy head, shuffled a few steps, and dropped the cat. White hair floated down over the stove and teapot. “She’s white like a ghost, but I liked the sound of Goblin better. Catchy, don’t you think?”
“Scary.” Katy nibbled her lip. She nudged the Siamese away from her ankle and, making a spur-of-the-moment decision, stood. “How many cats do you have?”
Barbara’s gaze skittered nervously from the Siamese to Katy. “Only three. And Sergeant spends most of his time outside. They’re sweet little kitties. You’ll see.”
“This isn’t going to work out for me.”
“I expect it’s the smell scaring you off, but if you keep up the litter box more regular than I do, that should fix that problem. I can’t smell it, but my daughter says it’s bad.”
“I’m sorry.” Katy shook her head and started toward the door. She wasn’t going to get herself in a fix like she had with Tammy. She would nip this disastrous job opportunity in the bud.
Barbara clambered after her, huffing by the time they reached the entryway. “You didn’t even give me a chance to ask you any questions. I thought the one doing the hiring was supposed to ask the questions.
I ain’t so sure I want some Amish person working for me anyway. You didn’t mention that in the ad.”
“I’m Mennonite. Don’t forget about your teapot, Barbara.”
With that Katy turned and opened the door. With a gasp, she reached down and caught the white cat just before it escaped and pushed it back inside. Behind her, she heard Barbara say, “What a shame. I liked her, Goblin. The kids ain’t gonna be happy about this, either.”
Katy regretted not being able to help Barbara, but there was no trying to fool herself. She was too fussy to fit in with the woman and her cats. And this had seemed like the best opportunity of the three replies.
Katy glanced across the truck’s cab at Jake and gave a tremulous smile. After a few e-mails, they had discovered the third response to Katy’s ad was a dud that ended up flooding his computer with spam. This added to her apprehensions about the entire Internet process and also about her interviewing with complete strangers.
Playing it safe with the widower, they had scheduled the last interview for a Saturday so that Jake could accompany Katy. Now his truck braked in front of a multilevel house in a nice neighborhood with huge lots.
“Wow.” She leaned forward to look past Jake. She’d never cleaned such a large, beautiful home. Surely Harry Chalmers could afford more than ten dollars an hour. She determined right then she’d ask for more. Then she remembered how Jake wanted to build better homes at more affordable prices and felt ashamed over her greed. But she quickly rationalized that, after all, she needed to be able to afford her expenses.
They opened an entry gate and walked up a long brick sidewalk flanked by camellia bushes with white blooms. Jake rang the doorbell.
They heard rattling on the other side of the door. Then little footsteps and a youngster yelling, “Daddy! Daddy!”
When the door opened, a tall, good-looking man in jeans and a polo shirt greeted them. One of his hands rested on the red head of a preschool-age boy. Harry Chalmers glanced at Jake and then at Katy’s covering. His eyes crinkled. “You’re Katy?”
She made the introductions, explaining that she’d brought Jake along as her escort.
“With the way the world is today, I totally understand. Come in.”
The entryway was impressive, two stories high